


Underestimation

by captorashi



Series: Tumblr Requests [9]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Wetting, because that's just how this works, because this shit is the only thing i fucking write, i mean you already know whats fucking coming, unjustified anger at video games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captorashi/pseuds/captorashi
Summary: "con2iider: 2ollux, chuggiing energy driink2 two concentrate, not allowiing hiim2elf two get up and u2e the bathroom untiil he beat2 some riidiiculou2ly hard bo22, 2ufferiing."ITS SANS UNDERTALE





	

You’ve been playing Undertroll for god-knows-how-long now, aiming to beat the genocide run in a single sitting. With your skills at hacking and electronics, it should be a piece of cake, right?

Well, it  _ was, _ until you had to fight that bony motherfucker.

And this has turned out to be one hell of a fight.

The fact that you can’t even land a  _ single _ hit on him - did you mention you only need  _ one _ hit on him anyway - is starting to really get at your nerves.

You decide to grab a few energy drinks. And by a few, you really mean as many cans as you can physically carry in one trip. You still really want to beat the genocide run in one sitting, and a stupid skeleton isn’t gonna stop that from happening.

Cracking open a can of redbull, you give this Sans asshole another go. It actually seems to be going well at first but you’re sure that won’t last - yep, he got you with one of his myriad bone attacks. Furious, you down the whole can and smash it with your psionics. Next round, you piece of shit.

This pattern continues for a while until you’ve drunk and smashed more cans than you’d like to admit. You’ve reached tunnel vision status, and you feel like you’re  _ so close _ to eking out a win that you can’t stop now, even as you realize you need to pee - no, you’re in the ZONE, and you’re about to finally beat that bulge-sucking, run-wrecking motherfucking asshole.

Or so you thought. These next few runs, you’re so agitated you’re playing worse than you were before you grabbed the drinks. Speaking of the drinks, you think they’ve caught up with your kidneys because  _ wow _ you really have to pee now. Still, you can’t give up now when you were so close.

So you press on. Declaring war on Sans, you start another battle. All goes well until…

_ “Fuck!” _

A strong surge in your need has you jamming your hands in your crotch, rocking back and forth to try to stem the flow. Taking deep breaths to regain control, you regroup and refocus yourself on the Sans fight. Crossing your legs tightly, you start again.

It goes better this time, but fighting two battles at once is really draining your resources. Needless to say, you lose again. And again. And again and again and again.

Really, the only thing keeping you at this desk is a sort of perverse pleasure you’re getting from fighting Sans. You’d say you have a sort of black crush on him, but that would require admitting that to yourself, which you’re really not keen on doing. Instead, you blame it on the redbulls.  _ Heh, now that’s two things to blame that stuff on, _ you think, biting your lip as the waves of desperation hit your bladder.

Suddenly, you have an idea that can either make you the greatest troll in existence or the stupidest: you make a deal to beat Sans without pissing yourself.

Cue the montage of epic failure, because life really just hates you right now.

So now you’re just sitting in your chair trying your damndest not to piss yourself. Why not just try to get up and go to the load gaper? That’s a simple answer, really; it’s because you just goddamn hate yourself and try to make yourself devoid of happiness or satisfaction at any given moment. It’s why you’ve kept on fighting that skeleton for what feels like hours. Speaking of the fucker, you’ve at least admitted to yourself that you hate him in possibly a slightly non-platonic way.

So maybe you’re imagining that he’s making you squirm and struggle in this chair as punishment for starting a genocide run. Maybe you really like the thrill of knowing you could explode at any minute. Maybe you enjoy the humiliation that comes from the thought of peeing your pants for a kismesis.

Maybe you’re just really, really fucked up.

All you know is that your legs are shaking with the effort to keep them crossed. Your hands grip the armrests of your chair so hard they’re turning white. You’re basically humping the seat as you keep squirming and shifting around. A soft whine comes out of you in between your heavy breaths as you feel the piss try to push its way out of your bladder.

A surge of need and your hands are glued to your crotch. You let out a groan, unsure if it’s from pain or pleasure. Probably both. Either way, you can’t help the spurt of piss that finally makes its way into your undies. Panting, you hump the seat some more as an attempt to stem the flow.

Of course, the key word there was  _ attempt, _ because now that you’ve leaked once the pee just keeps coming, and your hands quickly become soaked with your own juices. The series of leaks and spurts turns into an unstoppable stream of piss, and you let out a choked moan of relief as you give up and relish in the feeling.

And what a feeling it is. Your thighs are so warm where the piss spreads, and it makes such a loud hissing noise that you can’t help but be amazed on how much you held in. Out of a curiosity that is definitely  _ not _ sexual, you put your hand inside your pants to feel the stream.

Yeah, that wasn’t fooling anyone.

You end up fingering your nook as the last of the piss makes its way out of you, because of course you do. You’d keep touching yourself, but the wetness is starting to be gross by cooling off. You actually do something in your better judgment for once and decide to finish being gross in the ablution block. Of course, not before you flip off your monitor as a fuck you to that Sans asshole. He started all this, the fucker.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus: upon exiting the ablution block, you decide to go back to your husktop and fight Sans one more time, just to see how badly you'll do.
> 
> You get a win.
> 
> First.  
> Fucking.  
> Try.


End file.
